The Colour Purple (Winter Jasmine)
by FunfMeter
Summary: When Roderich leaves Gilbert's life, everything turns gray. The only thing he can focus on to block out the pain is the color of his eyes; that deep, beautiful purple. PruAus.
1. Dead

**A/N  
Okay, so this is my VERY FIRST fanfiction EVER. I just woke up one morning with this idea in my head and I felt like writing it down. So like, Enjoy!**

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Gilbert trudged absentmindedly along the well-worn track, thinking of the color purple.  
Running used to be his passion; he would work out every day, he would relish the burn in his thighs, the constant pounding his feet made against the ground in time with the music. But when purple fled, that rich, unique color, the rest of the rainbow opted out of his life as well.

And he didn't feel like running anymore.  
He meandered endlessly on the dirt path, listening to his Ipod and looking at the ducks in the pond. They reminded him of a pet bird he had, once, when he was a child. It died. Like everything else in his life.  
All dead.  
Those beautiful, mysterious, deep purple eyes staring at him hazily. Gone.  
He hadn't realized he was standing at the edge of the pond until he saw his sullen expression reflected back at him. But he wasn't standing anymore. He was on his knees, with his face in his hands, salty tears sliding trough his fingers. _Awesome people don't cry_, he told himself. But what if the color was the awesomeness?  
It was gone. Dead.  
Cold and dry, rotting.

He tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't. He was shaking. He collapsed. And then, as if on cue, the song on his IPod switched.  
_Damn you, shuffle_! It was... Chopin. One of those nocturnes. Gilbert never bothered learning the name of it; maybe he should. It was Roderich's favorite, after all.  
Purple.  
He remembered when Roderich couldn't sleep; he would go downstairs to the piano room and softly pluck random notes. He would drag his fingers absentmindedly across the ivory of his grand piano, and eventually this tune would be coaxed from his slim fingers, this wonderful, lilting melody, and he would come back and fall into a calm, satisfied sleep.

But Gilbert remembered the night that no amount of piano playing could have soothed his lovely Roderich. Not that he would have had time to play a single note from that one moment to the next. He did not slowly drift into his eternally peaceful rest surrounded by loved ones, or even next to his piano. No, he was ripped violently from his life by some imbecile on the side of the street. He deserved death, whoever he was. An idiot with a gun.  
Wait, scratch that. Nobody deserves death. Least of all Roderich...

He was shaking violently now, the tears coming full force. Why did this have to happen? And all at once, he was enveloped by something strong and warm. It lifted him up to his feet, and a firm grip enveloped him in a tight embrace. He opened his bloodshot eyes, but everything was blurry. He did see one thing though; that blessed, yet godforsaken color again.  
Purple.

The man's eyes were purple, and he couldn't stand it, for he was not Roderich. What is the meaning of this? But it was not his purple, the deep, meaningful color he longed to gaze into once more. This purple was light, thin, like it was diluted. It was cold and unseeing. It wasn't right. Who would dare turn his beautiful color into such a dull monstrosity? Ivan, of course. That cold-hearted bastard. The Russian man picked up his fragile form, letting him lean on him.

"Let's get you home, Da?" That stupid Russki.  
He had no home. Yes, he had a house; it was a roof over his head. But it did not feel like home. Roderich felt like home. And he hated that voice, so thin and yet so full of malice. He was... the purple impostor.  
And then another voice. Deeper, this time. He knew it would not be any kind of purple. He looked up into the icy blue eyes of his brother, and almost felt ashamed being caught crying. But he let himself be comforted by Ludwig's strong arms. He relished the feeling of his hair being gently stroked, but then felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He was the older one; he should have been staying strong and comforting _his_ little brother.

"Ivan, go away," said Ludwig sternly. The tall Russian man nodded in solemn understanding, and turned on his heel. He cast one last worried glance at the brothers before walking away. Ludwig turned to his sobbing brother once more.  
"It's going to be alright." Gilbert looked up at him incredulously. He had come to despise those same words that everyone was repeating to him; they didn't mean anything, because it was not alright, and Ludwig knew that.

"Do you really believe that?" he asked his little brother.

"No."

Gilbert blinks in surprise. Well, at least he was being honest.

"No, I don't. But... just, stay strong Gilbert."  
He doesn't realize... how hard it is.

"Ludwig..."

"Hm?"

"Imagine Feliciano got shot." His voice cracked on the last word. "Just.. ripped from this world by a stupid drunk bastard who didn't give a flying fuck about him, or you, or any of us. Think about how it would feel. Now imagine, this idiot gets away and you never find him. You just wish you could track him down and beat the living crap out of him, but you can't."

Ludwig looked at his brother carefully under a stern gaze.

"I... I... I can't. Feliciano... is my world." A pang of empathy resonated through his chest. Before, he had been sad at the death of his friend, and how it had affected his brother... but he never stopped to think how it had really affected him. Dammit. He couldn't cry too.. someone had to be strong.

"Let's just...go home," says the elder, voice shaking. Ludwig nodded, wiping away the traces of his emotions. He rises, holding out a hand to his older brother.

"Yes. Let's."

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**A/N EDIT**

**Whew! I made some corrections, if anyone noticed. I re-read it and realized how terrible it was! Anyway, see you next time!**


	2. Reminisce

**(A/N)Yay! New chapter! FINALLY. Sorry it came so late... a giant marble block belonging to 'writers' crashed down on me. Enjoy! (or try!)**

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Gilbert had always hated the winter.  
No, wait, that wasn't particularly true. He had never really liked any season more than another, and he had never disliked one. But now, it felt to him like he always had, because it just seemed right to hate the cold and the death of all colors during winter. Especially purple.

So, when his brother came to his house and demanded he get some fresh air in the form of a hike, he was not very happy. He didn't want to do anything, but Ludwig reasoned,  
"You haven't done anything for months! The last time you went jogging was October."

As they trudged up the dry, dusty steep path to the LA Observatory, Gilbert found himself thinking more than usual. Lately, he had been trying to shut out all of his thoughts, because they caused him pain. He thought about Roderich, the love of his life... that was now dead. Wait, no, don't think about that part. Just... him. His graceful and easy words, the way he moved, the way that a rare smile would grace his soft lips. Gilbert remembered it all. He didn't want to forget. And he wanted it back. It was all gone.

"Bruder, why did you stop?"  
He said nothing while he got up and wiped the tears from his eyes. He tried to think about other things, like his family. His brother was the only family he had left to support him. He remembered his parents. He had never liked them. When he was young, his parents had hated him because he was born albino. They thought he was shameful, a defective child, and hid his existence from the rest of the world. There were still stuck in the old days, with ideas of a perfect "master race". Despite all the damage the war had done to the world, and to their country, and the fact that both their fathers had been killed in battle, they still held on to what they could of their past, for it was all they knew.

So two years later, when Ludwig was born, perfect, beautiful, Aryan Ludwig, his parents were absolutely thrilled. They boasted about their beautiful little golden haired baby to all of their neighbors, and said that by the bright look in his clear blue eyes, they knew he would be an intelligent young child. And he was. They always gave him what he wanted, lavishing all their attention on him... and ignoring Gilbert. Despite all this, he learned to love and care for his baby brother as well, instead of being jealous.

Gilbert clearly remembers the moment in his past when he was truly saved from his parent's neglect. It was a night like many others; in trying to keep his brother occupied, he had accidentally made the baby cry. His father grabbed him by the collar and roughly threw him out into the night. He landed on his arm, scraping his elbow on the jagged concrete. Schändlich! Cried his mother. Ungnade! The door was slammed in his face. But he was used to this treatment by now, and he knew that trying to get back in was absolutely not an option. He took a moment to regain his breath, and forced himself not to cry. To cry was to admit defeat, to show weakness. When he was sure he was ready, he opened his eyes and looked out at the dark street. The sun had already set a long time ago, but the streetlamps were not on. The automatic timer had not been updated since daylight savings time had changed. He already knew where he was going to go. He began walking to the small, abandoned park down the street. There were not many children in the neighborhood, except for him and another girl, Elizabeta, but she had moved back to Hungary last year.

The park was filled with broken swing sets, rotting plastic slides, muddy sand, and overgrown grass and weeds. He went straight across the wreckage to his usual hiding place. There he knew nobody would find him, and he could camp out until morning then sneak back into the house. It was behind a thick, unkempt bush, inside a large concrete pipe that was connected to the surrounding forest, used to drain rainwater. He pushed the bushes aside and crawled into the narrow space. He was only able to fit inside because he was small and malnourished. He grabbed the blanket that was already there, which he had brought over for times like this, and prepared to settle for the night.

Just then, he heard a rustling in the bushes. Alarmed, he withdrew further in, pressing his back against the metal wire gate that separated him from the forest, and throwing the blanket over his head, covering his whole body, he thought, who could have followed me here? More rustling, and he saw a beam of light through the thin material.  
"Hey, boy, what are you doing shivering down here?" said a man's voice. It was a kind, soft voice, and it was somehow comforting to the frightened albino. He slowly pulled the cover down so he could look at the man. He had a wrinkled face, but it was kind and soft like his voice and his bright blue eyes, which contrasted with his shock of gray hair. Though he was old, he also seemed fit.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night? Or are you staying here?" Gilbert just shook his head. The man sighed. "You poor thing. You must be that Beilschmidt child. Can't be anyone else, not with those eyes." Gilbert was shocked.  
"How do you know my name?" he asked. Why am I talking to strangers? He asked himself.  
"My name is Frederick, but you just call me Fritz. Your first name is... Gilbert, right?" The boy nodded shakily. "You can stay over at my place tonight."  
And he did. He was seven years old at the time, and old Fritz became the parent he never had.

Ludwig sighed loudly, snapping his older brother out of his memories and into harsh reality. They continued up the path.

"The leaves are so pretty this time of year, huh?" commented the blonde. "They're almost finished changing colors." Crimson eyes scan the ground before them, and then glance up into the foliage that was once dense, but now sparse.  
"No, it isn't," he croaked. "It's all dead, and brown."

The silence became suffocating.

They continued up the dirt path. Ludwig felt as though you could reach out and feel the awkwardness. Gilbert just thought...  
He remembered the little yellow bird that died when he was young. He had named it Gilbird. It was his very first pet, and he loved that little thing, with its soft fluffy feathers and its adorable little 'piyo'! He would even talk to it, every day, and it would hop around and chirp in response. He never figured out what kind of bird it was, since it died when it was a baby. Was it a little chick? A canary, perhaps? Maybe even a Yellow Warbler? Whatever the case, it was his best friend when he had none at school, and so when it died of a severe eye infection, he buried the poor thing. He wrapped it up in a bit of cheesecloth and lowered it in a hole in the garden. He left a stone marker next to it as well. His parents sneered at this, but miraculously, they allowed it. They had more important things to worry about, like what private school to send Ludwig to, and what Gilbert's home school was.

The next spring, he looked out into the garden, and a little purple flower was growing where he had buried Gilbird. He really didn't know what kind of flower, and he never bothered to find out, but it was very pretty, in his opinion. He decided to water and take care of it, and he grew to love the soft, violet buds that would open to reveal little star-shaped flowers, clustered on branches. Eventually, it spread and grew into a series of bushes.

Then came high school. He and Ludwig ended up in the same school for a couple of years, because his parents thought the least Gilbert could do was scare away the bullies with his appearance. In reality, though, it was the other way around. They always called Gilbert a demon, a ghost, a changeling, peculiar, odd. Ludwig would hold him while he cried at home, too. Gilbert had always felt bad for being the older one and not being able to protect his baby brother, and that's when he started the "awesome" façade. He would seem confident; he would glow with pride. He would always laugh along with the crowd, and never at his expense. But it was all just a mask. Inside, he was still broken. But those were the years in which his life changed. It was also the year he met Roderich.

He was fascinated right away by his eyes, and he would never tire of losing himself in those beautiful, deep purple orbs, even years later. They were the same color as the flowers in the backyard garden. For Valentine's Day of their senior year, Gilbert had anonymously sent a bouquet of white lilies, red roses... and the purple flowers. They came together nicely, he thought. And Roderich was delighted. He soon traced down whom it was from, and when he found out it was Gilbert, he was relieved. His love wasn't unrequited.

Gilbert wishes he could still delight Roderich, relieve his worries, soothe his thoughts, but he couldn't. Not anymore. All the color was drained out of the world. So what was left?

Gilbert looked to his left. It was steep, it was a long way down. It looked deadly.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?" He felt cold, empty. Hopeless and lost.

"GILBERT!" He loved this falling sensation. He wondered how it would sound when he hit the bottom. The wind whipped his hair around his ears, and branches snagged at his clothes.

"GILBERT!"

His brother's voice, as if from a distance.

His brother.

His brother, Ludwig.

His brother!

What am I doing?

It was like waking up from a dream; where before, a thick, heavy haze had obscured everything, the fog suddenly lifted, and he saw his purpose. He frantically reached out and grabbed at a branch, trying to slow, if not stop, his fall.

The branch broke away in his hands.

He grabbed at the stony face of the cliff, trying desperately to stop.

And he did.

But he still hit the bottom.

The last thing he heard was sirens in the distance.

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**(A/N)Don't worry, it's not the end yet!**


	3. Again

**Die Farbe Lila, Kapitel drei**

**A/N Hey, sorry this came so late after such a terrible cliffhanger... i got grounded with no internet access (wah) but here it is.**

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_ ..._

_... _

_... ..._

_Voices murmured in his brain as he internally wandered the Camelot of his hypnopomic state. He had taken a birl with life, gambled at its fragile fabric, and it had left his heart algid. A strong glow beckons him from the intermerate peace of unconsciousness, inviting him into harsh reality: one of pain and sorrow, depression, trials and tribulations. But for now he will stay, to listen to the allocution that fills his head; one of faith, and of longing. For the first time in many a month, he felt something other than pain__—__ a sprig of fresh hope. He knew instinctively that there was something colourful to live for, though it was not purple. This was golden as the sun and blue as the clear sky on a summer day; the colour of sapphires, yet as precious as diamonds. Yare as a fox, and yet solid as an oak; his own flesh and blood. _

_He was supposed to be protecting him, was he not? Was it not his duty? Instead, he had let himself be lost in the throes of despair. And he had tried to end it. The realization hit him harder than the cold, foreboding ground had. But wait__- __why was he not dead? Alternatively, was he, and he did not know it?_

_Somehow, though, it did not matter anymore. It was peaceful here – not that he knew where "here" was. Yet, it did not trouble him. His eyes were closed, tightly shut, but he could still see everything. There was light around him; it was bright, too bright to look at, but it did not hurt his eyes. His body, or what was left of it, felt hot all over, burning; yet he did not feel the pain any mortal would have. He was icy cold, his fingers numb, yet he did not feel the algid bite as one would imagine. The air was pure, too pure for his tired lungs, used to the city smog- And yet he felt no struggle in his ribcage. In fact, there was too little struggle there. The atmosphere was calm, peaceful. The silence was suffocating, hallowed, and yet it was filled with the cacophony of a thousand shouts. He felt an immense pressure everywhere, and almost feared that he might burst, but it was comforting. He tried to look around him, but his head could not move. Still, the intense stillness was reassuring. _

_Through it all, he felt as though there were a presence watching over him, guarding him. It felt familiar, but he could not place it__—__ memory did not seem to work the same way in this realm. He struggled to try to twist his head around, but in vain. Panic began to bubble up in his chest__—__ his breath quickened. He tried opening his eyes__—__ no luck. Where was he? It was calm, peaceful, yes; but what was he doing here?_

_"Calm down Gil, you'll be alright. Don't hurt yourself; you've done enough of that already."_

_Gilbert gasped softly at the voice. He pushed against whatever was holding him down, trying desperately to move closer to the speaker, to see him, to touch him__—_

"_Here, let me help you with that." _

_Light, zephyrean fingers caressed his eyelids, and they slid open to reveal the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It was violescent, soft, glowing. Roderich looked healthy, his dark hair falling in soft waves across his forehead, save for the single piece that always went astray. His eyes sparkled; his perfect lips gently curved up into a peaceful smile, accented by the beauty mark at the corner of his mouth. Oh, how Gilbert longed to kiss him one last time. But was it all real? Could it be? It seemed likely, though__—__ he was dead, yes? And so was he. Or... was he? _

"_Yes, you are. But they're trying to bring you back." He sighed solemnly. "Do you want to go back?" Roderich gently touches Gilbert's lips, then trails his fingers all the way down to his collarbone. Gilbert felt his throat loosen, and he was able to speak. _

"_I-I...I..." He stuttered, voice cracking. "Rod... Roderich?" He whispered tentatively._

"_Yes, darling, it is me." A smile graced his lips once more._

"_I...I've missed you." He stated simply, staring lovingly into his dead lover's deep violet orbs. Roderich sighed again, but he was smiling this time._

"_So have I." He caressed Gilbert's body lightly, drawing lazy patterns on his bare skin. He leant forward, placing his head on his lover's chest. "So have I." Crimson orbs widen at the sudden warmth on his body, and finds that he can now move again. He carefully places his arms around Roderich, reveling in his presence. Then,_

"_What now, Roddy?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_You said... they were trying to bring me back..."_

"_Ah, yes... we do not have much time__—__"_

"_What__—__"_

"_So I must tell you now..." he stopped, then cleared his throat. He sighed, and then started again. "Let me give you some advice." Gilbert was listening tentatively, leaning closer to his love's lips. _

"_I have been watching you, all this time. And Gilbert, you need to stop. I know my death came as a shock to you, but think about how your behavior is affecting other people. I may sound harsh, but..." he trailed off, fixating on a point in the distance. "I'm in a better place. And it pains me to see you like this..." he shuddered. "To think that you tried to take your own life..."_

"_I'm sorry, Roderich... I truly am. It's just..." He sighs again. There seems to be a lot of sighing going on. "I just couldn't imagine life without you."_

_Roderich looked up into Gilbert's face, and purple locked with crimson._

"_Gilbert... just know, that I will always be there. In your darkest hour, in your deepest despair, I will be standing by you. Through your trials and your tribulations... your doubts, your frustrations." He smiled and nuzzled himself further into Gilbert's chest. "Even in your violence, your turbulence... all through your fear and your confessions. In your anguish, in your pain." He looks up at him again, eyes wet. He continues in a whisper, "Through your joy, and your sorrow..." _

_Gilbert suddenly felt an odd tingle, like a bolt of electricity, starting in his chest, then spreading outward, until it reached his toes and fingertips. He tried to ignore it. It did not feel like a part of the world he was currently in, his perfect little bubble; no, it felt like it was coming from the outside. He held on to his dead lover even tighter. _

"_In the promise of a better tomorrow," Roderich finished. The albino felt the odd tingle again, but stronger this time. The light began to fade. Roderich planted a kiss on his lips and said, "We will never truly part... let me linger always in your heart." As Roderich gently faded away, the stillness of this world began to give way to the agonized thrashing of a thousand limbs; the silence shattered, and unearthly screams began pouring out, flooding his mind, permeating it with Panic. Then it all erupted, and he was suddenly thrust back into Chaos._

He awoke with a violent jolt, as a sharp, searing pain wormed its way through his chest, into his back, all the way to his extremities. The same sensation he had had before, yet a million times more potent, more real, more excruciatingly clear. His eyes snapped open, and a harsh, white light came pouring through, burning his retinas. He gasped, the air in his lungs feeling foreign, as if it were his first breath after a million years. He felt warm, alive, and no longer in the odd dreamlike state of before. The next sense he seemed to regain was his smell and taste, though his hearing was still muffled. He tasted something rubbery, and his mouth felt dry; a metallic tingle lingered on his tongue. He smelled blood, as well as something sterile, sophisticated.

Then, the sound waves hit his ears like the crashing of a marching band, the voices and shouts of several people, coming from all directions. Hurried footsteps, shuffling to and fro all about him, and a quiet beeping sound emanating from directly behind his head. A face came into focus, just above him— he did not recognize it, and a blue mask covered it halfway. His hearing was beginning to fade again, his vision blurring, and whereas he had awoken with adrenaline rushing through his newly awakened veins, his limbs felt heavy, and his eyelids drooped. The last thing he heard before blacking out was a faint cry that sounded disturbingly familiar.  
_"Bruder!"_


	4. Chapter 4 (Not really, sorry)

**Hey guys! It's been a while since I've had an update, due to busyness and stupid computer viruses :(**

**I have two different ideas as to where TCP will be going, but I do not know which one I should use! One involves more Roderich, and the other more of bruderlein Ludwig. Please go on my page and vote on the poll so that I can see which one you awesome people want ;) Moreover, I know I'm not supposed to make a chapter that's an author's note, so I wrote a short little... thing. It really has nothing to do with the story, but I guess it could be one of the days before Roderich died or something. Even before he and Gil started going out, actually O.o You don't really have to read it... But if you do, enjoy, I guess!**

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Roderich was awakened from his well-deserved nap by a rather loud crash from downstairs. He groaned and rubbed his face wearily, for he knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. He groped around to his left until his fingers found his glasses, and he unceremoniously shoved them back onto his face. He heard another crash from downstairs, this one louder, and what was unmistakably Gilbert's voice.

"AaAHHh! Get zhat damn thing away from me!"

Roderich rolled his eyes and got up, still grumbling. Stupid Germa— sorry, _Prussian_ and his stupid accent and his adorable stupidity. Dammit, not adorable, irritating as hell! Another clang, another bash, the tweeting of a disturbed bird, and then a female voice.

"Get the hell over here you _hülye seggfej_!"

"Ah! Don't cuss at me in your stupid language, you... you... _dummkopf_ _sitzplinker_!"

"How DARE you— AAHGHHH!"

Damn, what did he do to piss off Elizabeta this time? Austria made it to the bottom of the landing and looked around for the source of the racket. Another clang, another shout, and the horrible truth dawned on him. _The kitchen. This is going to stop NOW._

His eyes widened when he reached the scene. Gilbert was standing on the counter in a kung-fu pose trying to look intimidating, but he looked terrified as Elizabeta loomed over him on the opposing counter wielding a heavy looking frying pan. It looked like Gilbert had tried to defend himself with eggs; there was yolk in Eli's hair and egg splattered on the wall. A bag of flour was perched haphazardly on the edge of the counter, half the contents of which were all over the Hungarian's apron and in Gilbert's already light hair.

Roderich cleared his throat rather pointedly, and the two stopped and whipped around to look at him, Gilbert turning so quickly he almost toppled over. There was silence for a moment as Roderich gave both of them the look. The _you're in big trouble_ look. They hung their heads like schoolchildren caught doing wrong, both silently fuming.

"What happened?"

They both began babbling at once.

"The idiot was being an idiot so I decided to—"

"I was calmly walking along when all of a sudden _man-girl _here—"

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"Well that's what you are, MAN-GIRL!"

"Don't forget I still have a frying pan, retard!"

"You made me that way with that damn pan of yours, man-girl!"

"Roddy, do you see this boy? Idiot!"

"That's the only insult you have, huh?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's the only thing you are!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!"

They fell silent.

"I don't really give a damn why. Just clean up my damn kitchen and let me take a nap. UNDISTURBED." He was giving them that look again. Roderich swiftly turned around and walked haughtily out of the room, leaving the two to awkwardly stand there.

"Have you ever noticed how nice his ass is?"

Elizabeta looked at the albino, speechless.

"wHAT?"

"You heard me, frying pan man-girl. Roderich. Ass. Niiiiiiiice—OW!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

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**I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I just...**

**Anyway, please check out the poll! That's why I wrote the damn thing anyway. Even though it wasn't very funny. Oh well, I tried. A change of pace from sad suicidal themes, at least.**

**VOTE DAMMIT**


	5. Return

**(A/N)  
Alrighty, you guys chose... Drum roll please!  
dundundundudnnuudnundudnudndundudnudnuddundun  
Roderich! (No surprise there..)  
I'm introducing a serious plot twist. :D  
Also, thank you for all the lovely reviews! Magical Awesome Gilbert Cookies for everyone! I know I haven't said anything about it, but I really appreciate it when you guys review.  
IT. MAKES. ME. FEEL. FUZZY.  
BTW, I was listening to ABBA while writing this.**

**Enough rambling! On with the show!**

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"I'm his brother, gott verdammt, let me through!"

"Sir, your brother is in a critical condition—"

"I don't care, that's why I have to see him!"

A nervous looking nurse rushed towards them, interrupting their conversation, which was getting nowhere fast anyway.

"Doctor, he's waking up," he said urgently. The doctor turned to Ludwig.

"If you could excuse me for a moment." With that, he briskly turned and walked into the hallway. Ludwig tried to follow, but the nurse held him back.

"GILBERT!" he shouted down the hall. The nurse gently led him back into the waiting room, and once he was seated, he turned to walk away. He then hesitated for a moment, and looked back at the blonde.

"He... your brother," he started, then gathered himself. "You care about him a lot."

It wasn't a question. Ludwig nodded.

"Very much so." he replied, almost sad. The nurse began walking away, then hesitated again and looked back. He made a small gesture for Ludwig to follow. He immediately stood up and walked purposefully with him, thanking him quietly. The man nodded in understanding.

"I- ah, I have a brother too. Two, actually. Foster brothers." Understanding passed between Ludwig and the nervous brown haired man. As they quickly rushed on, the hallway seemed to stretch on forever. They arrived at the room, and, steeling himself, he opened the door. They were met with the sight of Gilbert, looking pale, distraught, and bedraggled, but alive. Bandages covered most of his head, blood already soaking through. They were in stark contrast to the bleached white of the bandages, as were his striking eyes to his unusually pale face.

"Wha... Rod...er...ich..." he mumbled. "Don't... leave me..." Ludwig felt a pang in his chest. He had heard the doctors saying that he had died, but he still had a chance. So, they had revived him, but... he had been... dead, for a while. What had he seen?

Just then, Gilbert's eyes lit up.

"L-Ludwig!"

The doctor spun around, looked from Ludwig to the brown haired nurse, and glared at the latter, though he was a bit forced to accept it when Ludwig came running to his brother's side. They both began babbling at once.

"Ludwig, _oh Ludwig_, I'm _so_ sorry, I'm sorry Ludwig, oh _god_..."

"Gilbert, you're okay, _you're okay_ dammit, don't you _ever_ do that again, _schiße_, Gil..."

"I won't Ludwig, dammit, you freaking know it, because you're my bro, and I... I have to protect you!"

"No Gilbert, _I_ wasn't protecting _you_, I'm _so_ sorry Gilbert..."

Tears were streaming down both of their faces, and when their babbling and crying finally subsided, Gilbert looked embarrassed.

"Awesome people shouldn't cry," he mumbled. Ludwig could have laughed.

"Only awesome people cry. They're awesome enough to not be afraid of showing their feelings. It shows they have heart." Gilbert smiled.

"I freaking love you, bro."

"Ich liebe dich auch, bruder."

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

For a while, Ludwig would have said things were back to normal. Gilbert seemed... happier, somehow, and though his moods were more subdued, he was almost like his old self. Like the times before Roderich... well, before he...

Gilbert was almost like his old self.

Almost.

Ludwig began noticing small things, like how his brother's smile didn't quite reach as far as it used to— but then again, it was an improvement over not smiling at all. But they still didn't seem genuine. Sometimes Ludwig would catch glimpses of Gilbert when he was alone in the garden, or in the morning over a cup of coffee, when he thought nobody was looking. The albino looked desolate, abandoned, but also extremely pensive. When Ludwig tried to figure out what his brother could be so extremely preoccupied with, he remembered that his brother had died, even if it was for a moment, and a lot could have happened. A few times, he had almost worked up the courage to ask his brother, but decided it would be better to drop the matter.

One absolutely normal Sunday morning, Ludwig walked into the kitchen, expecting to see his brother looking forlorn as ever and nursing a cup of coffee. That was another thing; he didn't drink beer in the morning like he used to. And, he actually woke up early. But today, he wasn't there. Ludwig almost went to wake him up, but decided that it was better that he get his rest. He's been looking tired lately. As he walked up to the fridge, a bright green sticky note on it caught his eye.

_Luddy,  
Don't worry, I went for a walk. I'll be back in a while.  
~Gil._

Hmmm, no awesome comments yet. But at least he signed his name with a squiggle. That was... happy, wasn't it? Ludwig sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, still damp from his morning shower. Feliciano was coming over today... he should probably make sure the pasta ingredients were accessible.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Gilbert knew exactly where he was going as soon as he woke up. He didn't even know why he was going there; the thought of it just resonated through his head. And his encounter with Roderich wouldn't stop plaguing his mind. What did it mean? Was it even real? Last night, he dreamt about Roderich again. His angel... was whispering sweet nothings into his ear... and a single thought kept on emanating from his presence._ I will come back to you_.

Goddamn, he wanted this to stop. He loved Roderich so much... but he knew if he didn't let go, he would keep on hurting. Maybe visiting this place would clear his mind, or give him some answers. He didn't know what he would find there. It had been a while, and nobody was taking care of their old house.

Gilbert absentmindedly wondered if the purple flowers were still there.

Though he dressed warmly, halfway through the walk, a combination of his anxiety, the exercise, and LA's stupidly warm weather made it too hot for his coat.

When he was a block away from the house, he became impatient and broke into a run.

He skidded to a halt in front of the house, still not looking at it, and fearing the worst. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath. A few passerby gave him odd looks, but he ignored them. He slowly lifted his head, still panting. The house... looked well-kept. The purple flowers were there, the rosebushes were trimmed, and some freshly planted winter jasmine was in full bloom.

_Freshly... planted...?_

Gilbert ran into the house, slamming the door open frantically. _We've never had winter jasmine in our garden before!_ His mind flashed back to a day before Roderich had died.

_It was Christmas Eve in Los Angeles. Roderich quietly sipped his coffee as he looked out his window at the spectacular city view. The city seemed brighter than usual at this time of night; the city was still bustling with people, making merry during the one day that everyone seemed to get along. He glanced out at his garden, eyes roaming over the arrangement of flowers that he himself had plotted and planted. But, something was... wrong. _

"_Gilbert?" he called_

"_Hmm?" the albino peeked out from the kitchen to look at his beloved. "Ja, liebeling?"_

"_The garden. There's something missing..." He frowned, his delicate eyebrows coming together in a slight scowl. Gilbert sat down beside him, gently putting his arms around Roderich._

"_Well, there aren't many flowers that bloom in the winter," he reasoned, nuzzling his face into Roderich's soft locks. Gilbert internally rolled his eyes. Flowers were so... prissy. Buy hey, it's Christmas, might as well go along to make Roderich happy. Said man leaned against him._

"_Hmmm... what about... Winter Jasmine?" said Roderich._

"_What does that look like?"_

"_It's a small yellow bloom... with six little petals," he replied._

"_Hmm, sounds nice. And we don't have any yellow flowers at this time of year._

"_Next year around wintertime, I'm definitely going to plant some."_

"_Ja, you do that." Gilbert smiled at his partner._

It was wintertime again.

There was Winter Jasmine in the front garden.

What...

He quietly walked into the house, gently closing the door behind him. He cautiously stepped forward, then froze when he heard sounds from within the house. But not just any sounds.  
Piano music. From the music room. And not just the discordant playing of a fool messing around in an abandoned house. Gilbert rushed forward down the hall, intent on reaching the room in record time. Because this was the skilled playing of well-practiced, nimble pianist's fingers. Fingers Gilbert knew well.

Roderich...

But no, this couldn't be! Roderich was—

Gilbert slammed the door open, heart racing uncontrollably.

Roderich looked up from his place on the piano bench, nonchalantly pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Oh, hello Gilbert. I was wondering where you were this morning. We need milk."

* * *

**(A/N)**

**MUAHAHAHAHA! HAHA!HAHAahhhhhh*aHEM* okay anyway...**

**Winter Jasmine is an extremely cute flower.**

**Please review, it makes me write faster! Plus, you'll get treats! :D**


	6. Spark

Hehe, relatively quick update because you people are awesome and finally reviewed! *FLUFFYNESS* VIELEN DANKE TO ALL WHO REVIEWED!

EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED GETS PEANUT BUTTER CUPS AND MAGICAL GILBERT COOKIES!  
Sorry this is really short, though... ugh, not very satisfied with it, it's a bit of a filler chapter. But you guys get a bit of Feliciano! I've never written him, I think I made him too subdued, but I imagine him to be just a little calmer than most people write him, so... vhatever.

Ahem, anywho, enjoy!

* * *

...

..

.

Gilbert stared in open-mouthed shock at the sight before him. There sat Roderich at his piano, acting entirely nonchalant as though the past few months had never happened. And that was when Gilbert knew.

_I have completely lost it._

On impulse, Gilbert pinched himself, hard, and winced in pain as his nails dug into his flesh.

_I'm not dreaming._

He slapped himself just to make sure and staggered back in surprise.

_I'm NOT DREAMING__—_

"Gilbert, what's wrong? Why are you hurting yourself?!" He received no reply from the distraught albino, who already had tears streaming down his face.

_I'm not... dreaming..._

He came forward and tentatively wrapped his arms around the taller man. Gilbert stiffened at his touch.

Roderich... you're... you're real?" he asked, voice cracking. Roderich frowned slightly.

"Of course I'm real, Gilbert. Have you been drinki— ah!" that was all the confirmation Gilbert had needed. He pulled his beloved into a warm, tight embrace. Roderich slowly put his arms around him, and tightened his grip when he felt his body wrack with sobs.

"Shh, shh... what's wrong, Gil?"

"You... you really don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

Gilbert pulled away a bit in confusion. "You were... well, you were... dead," he finished softly. Roderich frowned in obvious concern.

"I can assure you that I am alive and well. Gil, what is going on?"

But he was at a loss for words.

He ran all the way to Ludwig's house.

0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

'_I can assure you that I am alive and well...'_

Was it true? Could it possibly be? No... He had seen Roderich dying, seen the look of confusion and then shock on his pale face as the blood spread across his shirt; he had seen his cold eyes, dead, blank, and unseeing; he had even encountered Roderich's spirit when he himself had died. He had gone to the funeral, seen his beloved buried in the ground. How could all that pain be a lie?

"_I'll, uh... I'll go get the milk." He dashed out of the house in a frenzy, wiping the tears from his awesome eyes and leaving a confused Roderich behind._

Gilbert slammed open a door for the second time that day.

"LUDWIG!"

"Wha- oh, guten morgen Bruder. How was your walk?"

"Roderich." The name tasted like honey on his tongue, the three syllables cascaded from his lips and tumbled through the air.

"Uh..." he decided to proceed with relative caution. "Yes... Roderich. What... what about Roderich?"

"H-he... oh gott, Luddy, he..." tears were falling from his face again.

"He's... d-dead" stuttered Ludwig uncertainly. Was his brother just now coming to terms with this? Gilbert's head snapped up and bright ruby eyes bored into his cerulean ones.

"He isn't. He's alive, Bruder!" Ludwig intently searched for an answer in those ruby eyes, like two drops of blood on his brother's face; and he saw something new there, a spark that he hasn't seen in a very long time. There was fire in Gilbert's eyes.

Ludwig almost believed him, but then his memories came crashing down, of Roderich, lying dead on a cold hospital bed, then in a casket, an oddly serene look gracing his delicate features, his face a deathly pale grey. Blood, blood everywhere, and doctors rushing about... then his limp body devoid of all blood, and surrounded by flowers.

_He's gone mad._

"Gilbert... oh Bruder, please..."

"Ve~ Luddy? Oh, hey Gilbert! Did you have a nice walk?" the two brothers' attentions snapped to Feliciano, who was standing in the doorway and whom obviously did not sense the mood, as always. Gilbert put on another of his false smiles, though the kind which required less energy, reserved for those who would not notice such subtle traces of emotion, of lack thereof. _But this time, _Ludwig noted, _this time, there's something else. There is a spark._

_He has __**completely**__ lost it._

"Yeah, it was great!" Gilbert stretched his arms in an exaggerated fashion, grinning at the younger. He laughed.

"Did you listen to the birds?" Gilbert nodded enthusiastically. "Did you smell the flowers? His smile dropped, and a flash of something unrecognizable came across his face. He quickly recovered, however, and the young brunette didn't even notice.

"Yep!" he replied cheerily. "Not too many flowers in the winter, but hey, winter here is probably like summer in Sweden!" His voice shook slightly. Feliciano cocked his head inquisitively.

"Why Sweden?" he piped. Gilbert shrugged and scowled slightly. All of a sudden, Feliciano jumped up. "Ve! The pasta will overcook!" he dashed into the kitchen, calling back an apology for leaving so abruptly.

"Damn, he sure is serious about his pasta, huh?"

"Gilbert."

"Aaahhhh, Ludwig, if you marry him, it's pasta every day for you!"

"_Gilbert."_

"Just don't turn into a pansy like him, always crying, and drinking wine instead of beer. Not awesome."

"GILBERT."

"Whaaat?"

"What is this about...Roderich?"

Dead silence.

"Let me show you."

* * *

Ughguhguhgh, short chapter fail.

DID ANYONE SEE THE **GAME** *GASP*

I CANNOT FREAKING BELIEVE _THE **HEAT** WON_

I HATE LeBRON UGH I'M SO SORRY HEAT FANS I JUST CAN'T STAND HIM

NOT FAIR DAMMIT

Ahem, excuse my basketball rant, just saw the game and then furiously typed this. :) Please review, maybe I'll have a longer chapter next time...


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